Real Men Eat Wasabi!
by Skyla Ladona
Summary: Fuji’s love for wasabi becomes a hassle when he and three Seigaku regulars discover two crazy sushi chefs who believe Fuji’s the long awaited “great Master” of their clan. But to claim the title from another “Master” Fuji must eat wasabi to the death.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis. But I own Fuji. I just kidnapped him.

Fuji: (Wearing a collar and leash.) This is abuse! _Abuse_! Yuuta, help!

Yuuta: (speaking to Skyla) Here's his food and his chew toy. You have to walk him three times a day. When it rains you really don't have to bother keeping him inside. He's too spoiled as it is.

Fuji: _Yuuta! _

Yuuta: (Waves goodbye as Skyla walks away dragging a struggling Fuji behind her.)

Hope you enjoy _Real Men Eat Wasabi!_ Please Review!

ooo

Ryoma yawned as he walked down the street, glancing at the three other Seigaku regulars. Momoshiro walked beside him while the highly energetic Kikumaru walked next to Fuji. All four of them carried their tennis bags. The weekend practice was over. The four of them had made their grand escape before Inui could bestow upon them the honor of sampling his new "Cup of Joe." "Joe" just happened to be the name of the biology teacher's class pet toad. The four boys didn't stay long to find out if it was just a coincidence.

"Nya, Fuji! You're so mean!"

Fuji smiled. "Why am I mean?"

"I know you took some of my bento! You did, didn't you!"

"Saa, Kikumaru. I do not know what you are saying."

"We were sitting under the tree and you told me about that bird, remember? And I looked and it was pretty . . . Pretty _invisible_! And when I looked down the pickled plum was gone from my bento! I know you ate it!"

Momoshiro grinned broadly, laughing at the bickering between the two seniors. "It's too early for this," Ryoma mumbled. He had been rudely awakened by Karupin that morning. He didn't have to tell anyone though. His friends could see a few stands of cat fur poking from his dark hair. Or, perhaps, Ryoma was going gray.

"It's 5:00 PM," Fuji informed Ryoma over his shoulder with a smile.

"Che." Details. Details. It still felt like 6:00AM to him.

"So where are we going again?" Momoshiro asked as they stopped at the cross walk. They waited for the light to turn green. "We didn't really say where, did we?"

"Burgers, sushi, Italian. You decide," Kikumaru said.

Momoshiro and Ryoma smirked evilly at the acrobatics player. "Does that mean you'll pay?" they asked in unison.

Kikumaru's eyes widened and he shook his hands as if to ward off a horde of insects. "No, no! Fuji is the oldest. He is paying. He—where did he go?"

They turned about and saw that Fuji was already crossing the street, and the walk light had been green for a while. The other three regulars jogged across the street to catch up before it turned red again. "Oi! Fuji!" Eiji cried when they joined the tensai. "You left us behind! And by the way, you're pay—" A loud motorcycle roared by down the street, drowning out Eiji's words.

Fuji held a hand up to his ear. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

Eiji held his hands around his mouth to holler over the noise. "I SAID YOU ARE PAY—" Five police cars sped by, chasing after the motorcycle, all five sirens screaming like banshees.

"What?!" Fuji called, hollering as well over the noise.

"_I SAID YOU'RE PAY—"_

Ten more police cars roared past.

At a nearby construction sight a worker began to drill into the pavement with a jackhammer.

A toddler wailed bloody murder when her ice cream fell off the cone onto the grass.

"WHAT?!" Fuji called again.

"_**I SAID—!"**_

Tokyo decided at that moment to undergo a mini earthquake whose _rather loud_ bark was worse than its bite.

Kikumaru roared, _**"MOA! NEVER MIND!" **_

The earthquake stopped, the terrible noises faded away, and all was right with the world again. Kikumaru was paying the bill, not Fuji.

They walked down the street some more till they discovered a new restaurant. "Katsumoto Sushi," Momoshiro read. "Do you think Kawamura will be mad at us if we walked in?" Momoshiro asked. "It would look bad if we supported the competition."

Fuji laughed quietly. "Let's call this an infiltration. We'll see if it's _real_ competition. I doubt it will be."

They walked in. It was empty. There was no one in sight.

Confetti exploded from out of no where. The regulars threw up their hands with yelps of surprise against the bombardment of falling paper snow. Two men in sushi chef uniforms appeared, yelling "Bonsai!"

Momoshiro punched the nearest lunatic in the face. "What are you doing!" he roared.

The chefs jumped back and bowed to the four. "Welcome! You are our first costumers! Please take your seats!"

The four boys looked at each other in confusion. "Who are you?" Ryoma asked, an eyebrow raised.

The nearest man bowed again. Unlike the other he sported a rather curly mustache. "I am Katsumoto Ginko"

The other man, who had no facial hair, gave a bow as well. Facial hair was the only way to tell the two apart. "And I am Katsumoto Ginka. We are the Katsumoto brothers and have just moved to Tokyo from Kyoto. We are from a long line of Sushi chefs." He held a hand over his heart with proud exuberance. "From generation to generation the ancient sushi secrets of our family have been passed down from father to son. We are two of the last few remaining individuals of this glorious lineage. We are pleased to meet you."

Ginko held out a wooden board with fresh sushi upon it. "Please. Eat a sample. It is fresh and free."

The four hungry regulars looked down at the sushi . . . Ryoma, Momoshiro, and Eiji backed away, growing pale. "Wasabi sushi," Momoshiro said angrily. "Are you trying to kill us with that stuff?"

Fuji looked serenely down at the free sample. "I will have some," he said. He reached out and took a sample, eating it easily. He smiled. "It tastes very good." He looked up and noticed that the two brothers were staring at him in awe, their cheeks pink. One sweat drop appeared on the tensai's temple. "Saa . . . is everything alright?"

Ginka grabbed his slender hands in his, his eyes filled with emotion. "You . . ." he began passionately. "You are a man with a true sense of taste!"

Ginko appeared instantly beside his brother, giving the regulars a scare, and peered at Fuji carefully with squinted eyes. After a second his eyes opened wide. "Yes! Yes I see it! It is just like the Master himself!"

Eiji, Momoshiro, and Ryoma cocked their heads to the side. "The Master?" they asked.

Fuji laughed nervously, another sweat drop appearing on his other temple. "Katsumoto-san . . . I'd like my hands back please."

Ginka gave a yelp and fell to his knees, bowing his head to the floor. "Forgive me! I am ashamed to have contaminated your sacred hands! I shall punish myself! Ginko!"

"Hai, Ginka!"

"Give me the wasabi!"

"Hai!"

Ginko passed him a fresh green wasabi plant and Ginka opened his mouth and promptly ate it whole. His eyes immediately began tearing in agony and soon he was begging for water, clutching his throat in agony.

The regulars watched with rather exasperated expressions. "Maa," Momoshiro murmered. "Was that really necessary?"

"Hoi, who is this 'Master?'" Kikumaru asked, still curious.

Ginka, who was still recovering from wasabi poisoning, lowered his head. Ginko did the same. Both stared at the floor solemnly. "He was a great and powerful man," Ginko said softly. "During the feudal era he was the lord and master that all the Katsumoto chefs served. Today people have long forgotten his name, but his sense of taste, which we still honor, will never be forgotten. Legend has it that the Master came one day to the first ancestor of our proud family, Katsumoto Sushi, during—"

"Sushi?" Eiji and Momoshiro asked. "His name was Sushi?" They held hands over their mouth to suppress a rumbling surge of laughter. Ryoma was nodding off on his feet, not really listening.

Ginko continued the story as if nothing had happened. "So the Master, a powerful samurai, came to Katsumoto Sushi, wounded and fatigued from another long war. He said, 'I am hungry and weary from battle. I would like you to give me food.' Sushi, a humble chef, replied sadly. 'I am sorry, my Lord, but I have nothing to give you right now. I have no fish, no vegetables, and no rice. I only have wasabi, and no water to sooth its burn.'

"But the great Master shook his head and said, 'Wasabi will do well enough for me.' And so he took the freshly cut green plant and ate the root and then the leaves without frowning or crying due to its oh so spicy taste.

"And Sushi was amazed because he had never seen anything like this before! A man who could stand the taste of wasabi, the frightful Japanese horseradish, without flinching and without drinking water was a true man indeed! Sushi bowed to the great Master, who had already begun to eat a second wasabi plant. 'My Lord!' he cried passionately! 'Please stay the night and I shall gather fish to cook for you!'

"After he had gathered the fish he made the finest meal he could and served it to the Master. The Master was pleased and said 'From this day forth, Katsumoto Sushi, become my chef.' For many years Katsumoto, Katsumoto's children, and even Katsumoto's _grandchildren_ served the great Master till one day the Master disappeared, never to be seen again. But with his disappearance the last wasabi plant of the harvest that year disappeared with him. Wherever he was going he would be alive, and eating his precious wasabi.

"And ever since then, the Katsumoto family has awaited his glorious return."

The Seigaku regulars, Momoshiro and Eiji in particular (they had long since recovered from their giggle fit) stared at the Ginko in disbelief after he finished the tale. "Nya, is that really true?" Eiji asked.

The Katsumoto brothers nodded proudly. "Yes," Ginka said. "Though, since that day long ago, no one has been his equal . . . till now!" He passionately grabbed Fuji's hands again. "Please, we must know your name!"

A third sweat drop appeared on Fuji's brow. His eyebrow twitched. "Fuji Syuusuke," he answered warily.

"FUJI-SAMA!" The two chefs bowed once again to the floor.

The three other tennis regulars crossed their arms over their chests, frowning. "'Sama?'" Ryoma murmered. "Why don't _we_ deserve a 'sama?'"

(Note . . . Ryoma _already_ has a "sama." Hence the title of this anime.)

Fuji laughed nervously. There was malevolent karma flowing from his fellow regulars. Fuji turned helplessly back to the chefs who had started to chant his name and tried to settle them down. "Saa, do not give me such a formal title."

Ginka and Ginko's eyes filled with tears of joy and admiration. "Our Master! So humble! So noble!" Again they began to chant. "Fuji-sama! Fuji-sama!"

The door slid open violently to the Sushi restaurant. The brothers turned around and gasped, horrified.

A man of about 30 walked in, his narrow, amber eyes gazing upon the chefs with an inborn arrogance. He was a monster of a man, a Hulk without the green skin. He drew the cigarette he was smoking from of his mouth, let it drop to the newly polished floor, and stepped on it with the heel of his boot. "Ginko. Ginka," he said dangerously. "The only man you should bestow the honor of 'sama' upon is _me_."

To be continued . . .


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis . . . but, of course, I do own Fuji.

Fuji: No one will ever own me! I am an individual! I have my rights!

Skyla: When you are under stress you get severely out of character.

Fuji: You would too if you had to sleep in a dog house!

Skyla: **Ketchupblood**, you can help me take care of Fuji too. Just be careful, he bites. As a request from **suzsan**, I have also successfully kidnapped Ryoma . . . . Oi . . . Ryoma? Here kitty, kitty, kitty . . . Oops . . . sorry, **suzsan**, he escaped.

Ryoma: (In a Brave Heart impersonation, but wearing a kitty cat headband, as he stands on top of a distant, green hill far, far away.) FREEEEEEEDOM!

I'm sorry, it took a while to update this . . . a long while. Gomen.

Hope you enjoy the second and possibly last installment of _Real Men Eat Wasabi! _Please Review!

ooo

A man of about 30 walked in, his narrow, amber eyes gazing upon the chefs with an inborn arrogance. He was a monster of a man, a Hulk without the green skin. He drew the cigarette he was smoking from of his mouth, let it drop to the newly polished floor, and stepped on it with the heel of his boot. "Ginko. Ginka. The only man you should bestow the honor of 'sama' upon is me."

The Katsumoto brothers yelped and fell to the floor kneeling and bowing. "Inoshishi-sama!" they called. They were positively trembling in fear.

Momoshiro frowned at the newcomer. "He is rude."

Ryoma, who seemed to have finally awoken, narrowed his gold eyes.

The man known as Inoshishi walked forward towards them, eyeing the four regulars distastefully. "What are a bunch of boys doing in here? Don't tell me you were going to serve them?" The tall, muscular man caught sight of the wasabi sushi that sat idly on the counter. He picked one up and easily ate it without so much as a flinch.

Eiji pointed in awe. "He's like you, Fuji," he said quietly.

Fuji did not reply. However, he was not smiling either.

"Now," Inoshishi said, crossing his large arms over his broad chest as he regarded the Katsumoto brothers. There was a smirk on his rough face. "What's the meaning with you leaving me in Kyoto? You were my chefs, right? My _loyal_ chefs. The head of the Katsumoto family ordered you to serve me, your 'great Master,' till the end of your days."

The two brothers, still bowing to the floor, gulped. "Hai, Inoshishi-sama," the murmered.

"Oi, oi," Momoshiro whispered quietly. "You seriously don't believe that this guy is the 'Master,' do you?"

Ginko and Ginka kept their silence, though their hands clenched.

Inoshishi laughed when he heard Momo's inquiry. "Oh, so you told the boys the story then?" He cast a casual glance at the four boys with a smug smile. "Then you realize that these good for nothing chefs are my servants. His family has been my slaves for centuries. They are destined to serve me till the end of time."

Ryoma spoke quietly to no one in particular. "Eh? I thought the feudal system ended."

Ginko surprised them all by speaking. "We serve the great Master willingly, not as slaves."

Inoshishi raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you disobey me by leaving Kyoto?"

Ginka spoke as well and this time he made eye contact with the tall, hulking man. "You are no Master to us."

Inoshishi blinked, surprised by his sudden boldness, and barked with laughter. "I'm not? So, for ten years, the Katsumoto elders have been wrong, have they? For ten years they have served me, the _false_ Master? So who, may I ask, is the _real_ Master?"

Simultaneously the two brothers pointed at a Fuji. "He is!"

Inoshishi's eyes shifted and stared down at the tensai. Despite the overwhelming intimidation radiating from his amber glare Fuji did not move a muscle. "He's nothing but a chibi," the man said with a laugh.

Fuji smiled. "If you believe so, let us make this interesting by testing your theory with a contest."

"Nya! Fuji!" Kikumaru cried, horrified. It seemed that, somehow, a little bit of Oishi had rubbed off on him that day. "Don't make him angry! Momoshiro, Ochibi! Help me!" Kikumaru looked at the two younger regulars and paled.

Both younger boys had their arms crossed over their chests. The glare Momoshiro gave Inoshishi was intense with dislike. Ryoma had taken Inoshishi's use of the word "chibi" personally, and a vein was popping out on this forehead, his black eyebrows twitching. They both muttered quietly, "Go get him, Fuji-senpai."

Inoshishi laughed, amused. He was going to enjoy this. "So, what kind of contest?" he questioned.

Fuji took a step towards the counter. "An eating contest." He picked up a piece of wasabi that Ginka had not managed to consume. "We will eat wasabi. And only wasabi, like the great Master once did after his terrible battle. The one who lasts the longest, and eats the most, is the true great Master."

Inoshishi raised an eyebrow. "You realize, boy, that I have many more years of experience then you in this art."

"Do you now?" Fuji asked. His blue eyes opened. "That, Inoshishi, is another theory we can test."

In a few moments Inoshishi and Fuji were kneeling down on the floor, a low table spread out before them with plates of fresh wasabi. Neither, however, looked at the food before them. Both glared intensely at one another, tension hovering over them like storm clouds.

Ginko and Ginka stood by, gulping. Ginka spoke first. "I wish . . . I wish you both luck . . ."

"Both?" Inoshishi said, his eyes flashing. "Which one of us is your Master, Ginko?"

Ginka looked uncomfortably down at his hands. "I'm Ginka," he murmered.

Inoshishi stepped hard on Ginka's foot. "What was that you said?" the muscular giant asked.

Ginka, who's face contorted with pain, bowed his head. "Good luck, Master," he said firmly.

Fuji's brow furrowed when Inoshishi smirked at him. Simultaneously they both took up a wasabi plant and they held the green plants aloft, never loosing eye contact. In unison they murmered the word that would begin the fight for the title of Master.

"Itatakimasu."

They bit into the wasabi and ate in silence. Unlike other food competitions, where the food contestants stuffed their faces, Fuji and his rival were rather graceful about the whole affair . . . Though two of their onlookers were not.

Momoshiro shouted loudly from the sidelines. "Go get him, Fuji-senpai! Fight-O—I mean—_EAT_-O!"

Ryoma sweat dropped and rubbed his forehead in exasperation and pain due to bad puns while Kikumaru, caught up in the excitement after having forgotten Fuji's imminent danger, snickered, and added, "I'll treat you to some wasabi sushi later!" Both he and Momo exploded in laughter.

Ryoma rubbed his aching forehead harder. "I should have just gone home when this started," he muttered.

Momo cupped his hands around his mouth and roared, "SHOW THAT WASABI WHO'S BOSS!"

In an attempt to outdo Momoshiro's cheers, Kikumaru yelled, "MANJA! MANJA!"

"_BON APPITITE!"_ Momo bellowed.

"CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!"

"REAL MEN EAT WASABI!"

Ryoma put his fingers in his ears.

Both opponents continued to eat wasabi plant after wasabi plant, neither backing down. Fuji, as he ate, had a contented smile on his face. Inoshishi seemed unaffected as well . . . or at least, he appeared that way. Fuji glanced at him once and could see, with some satisfaction, that the fake Master's hand was rather tense and his face was a little too emotionless to be natural. Any person could eat wasabi without flinching. When they had eaten their eighth wasabi plant Fuji chuckled sinisterly. Inoshishi's eyes narrowed. "What is so funny?" he asked.

Fuji grinned. "You are sweating, Inoshishi."

Inoshishi did not answer. Fuji didn't think he could any more. Their small pause had the desired effect Fuji was waiting for.

It was easy to eat three or four spicy foods in rapid succession without stopping. If you ate five chili peppers fast enough you wouldn't notice the spiciness until the fourth one. If you paused too long in between peppers you would soon become aware of the spice faster. For some people that could be true of wasabi as well.

Inoshishi's face was turning red and his throat was visibly constricting. His eyes watered. He did not look so scary anymore, sweating and visibly trying to breathe through the fire in his mouth. Suddenly he grabbed for his throat. "Water!" he rasped in a cross between a screech and a bellow. He lurched to his feet from his kneeling position and promptly crashed loudly to the floor in a faint as though he had just tasted one of Inui's drinks. Laughing at the comical sight, Fuji ate another wasabi plant, mumbling an _mmmm_ of appreciation for good food.

Eiji and Momo cheered. Ryoma poked Inoshishi in the head curiously with his tennis racket, wondering if he was dead. Ginko and Ginka stared at their fallen "Master" and looked at Fuji in awe. Suddenly they knelt before Fuji and bowed their head to the floor. "Fuji-sama!" they cried. They gazed in admiration upon Fuji as the young tennis prodigy ate yet another piece of wasabi. "We are indebted to you forever!"

The sound of sirens filled the air. All at once five police men barged into the Katsumoto Sushi restaurant. "NO ONE MOVE!" bellowed the loudest and the shortest.

Kikumaru yelped and grabbed onto Momoshiro, the next best replacement for Oishi in a time of crisis. Ryoma blinked up at the police men, murmuring a quiet, "Huh?" Fuji ate another piece of wasabi. (So far he had eaten a little more than ten. He was hungry, since none of them had eaten supper yet.)

The short police officer, seeing that he had gotten all their attention, bellowed some more. "WE ARE SEARCHING FOR THIS MAN! HE IS A CONVICTED THIEF AND CON ARTIST." He held up a picture. The four tennis regulars grouped around the picture, Fuji munching on his bright green snack.

The picture was of a broad shouldered hulk of a man with angry eyes and stubble. "Hoi, isn't that Inoshishi?" Kikumaru asked.

"Hai, that's the little bas—Oi! Where is he?!"

Turning about on the spot they saw, with shock, that the man was gone. The sound of a motorcycle roaring caught their ears. "That must be him! He's going to get away!" Momoshiro grabbed his tennis bag and sprinted out of the restaurant. The three other Seigaku members followed his example, the police men and the Katsumoto brothers trailing behind.

Inoshishi, still red in the face, his mouth on fire from all that fresh wasabi, glanced over his shoulder at his assailants, managing to laugh. _No one can get me, _he thought, preparing to leave the scene on his motorcycle. _I, the best con artist in the world, who has escaped from all manner of tight situations. I, who will never be caught. Ever. _He barked with hoarse laughter—

And another deadly wasabi plant was served, by our lovable wasabi eating tensai, right into his mouth.

Inoshishi and his motorcycle keeled over. The big man was out cold.

Momoshiro, Eiji, and Ryoma stopped beside the fallen man. The youngest of the three once again found sport in prodding the unconscious con man with his racquet before the police men roughly pushed them all aside. Clearing his throat the short police officer called out in a bellow. "TAIYOKI INOSHISHI! I ARREST YOU IN THE NAME OF THE TOKYO POLICE DEPARTMENT! YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN _SILENT!_"

Inoshishi, drooling and brain-dead with wasabi fever, did not need to be told this last piece of information.

The five police officers hoisted up the con artist and dragged him over to a police car. Suddenly Ryoma blinked and looked about. "Huh? Where is Fuji-senpai?"

Momoshiro and Kikumaru, still laughing at the look on Inoshishi's face, turned around in a circle in confusion. "They're gone!" Kikumaru cried. "Fuji and the Katsumoto brothers!"

"Where did they all go off to?" Momoshiro murmered.

As one, their stomachs grumbled loudly. Looking down they decided that they'd worry about Fuji and the brothers later once they had some burgers.

ooo

In the great palace the chefs of the Katsumoto clan stood in the formal chef attire, row by row. Some gulped, fear and apprehension on their faces. Others stared at their feet, hands clenched in anticipation, in hope, waiting for the mysterious figure that would lead them to walk out from behind the grand curtains.

Suddenly the curtains parted. Gasps filled the room. In complete unison over one hundred chefs fell to the floor on bended knees, bowing their heads. A figure dressed in a dark blue kimono stepped out from the curtain. At his side were the two ancient swords of his title, strapped to an ornate sash. The man stopped to stand walking before them all.

"GREAT MASTER!" they shouted as one. "WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO EAT?!"

The blue eyes of their great Master, who finally returned to them at last, looked gravely upon them all. He called in a clear voice, "Give me wasabi."

The chefs of the Katsumoto clan shouted as one in a chant that shook the palace.

"FUJI-SAMA! FUJI-SAMA! _FUJI-SAMA!"_

End

Note: Inoshishi means pig or wild boar. Hee hee.

The key to Fuji's incredible Wasabi tolerance . . . He has no taste buds. (Just kidding)

Hope you enjoyed my fan fic.


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